Capturing the High Noon
by Trueroman
Summary: This is the story of tank commander, Atkin Barrens. Man of horrid dreams. Those that he wishes to escape, even if death be his only means.
1. Urge on Sweet Sunrise

_Greetings to all who have taken the time to read my fic! Please note, this takes place around 1941-1942, when the British were fighting both the Italians and German forces in Africa. The Americans have not yet entered the war as well. At least not around Europe. _

_Their is a deal bit of cussing, but nothing worse than what you'll see on t.v, if not less. But just for safe measure it'll be rated T, planning not to go far enough to send this into the brink of a M rating. Well, without further ado, may the story begin. _

* * *

URGE ON SWEET SUNRISE 

I felt it. The sudden shift of explosions and dangerously loud gunshots. This battle, this war, was drawing closer to us. I could just feel it. I stood at a still, looking, gazing over the flat desert that spread among, in all direction till peaks begin or the array of smoke and mirages engulfed what was left.  
It was hot.  
Damn was it hot.  
Rubbing my wrinkled and chaffed skin i began to think. Today, would be a great day to die.  
Nefarious popped out from within the hollow opening that led inside the tank, coughing and breathing heavily as he began to speak to me, "Commander. We have radio contact from Montgomery himself. Jerrie's are coming our way. It seems that they managed to cut off from the current lines and dawned back so they can arrive at this position... um, captain, sir?"  
I didn't seem to be interested in what he had to say. I didn't need HQ to tell me the fight was coming to us. It was in my gut. My bowels were telling me that black plague was approaching, and fast. The boys better be ready, cause those Germans aren't going to just let us blow them to bits. That i was sure of.  
I let the still silence last a little longer before i decided, for the sake of Nefarious, to speak. "Good. Tell Cassius in there to load the two-pounder, you get on that machine gun and prepare yourself," I stopped to take a breath, "I see them."

It was true. The vast sand spur whirled in a fashion much seen in the months waning out in the desert. It spoke in clear tongue that, that was no ordinary typhoon of dust. No, it was being kicked around by heavy tanks and Panzers. They called it the _Panzerarmee_. A deadly division of cunningly designed vehicles, heavy transporters and a barrage of AA guns that could punch a clean hole in anything living or non. It's just shocking how they turned something from an artilliry cannon into a despised piece of a equipment, even more so than the man leading this vast group. Yes, Rommel. General supremest and a tactical genius to boot. One that could curve even the toughest of situations to his favor. Or so he has been doing as of late. But unlike the rest of the conflicts I've been in, in this God forsaken desert, this one just felt, how should i say, right. As if we had a fighting chance. I just hoped my instincts on the matter are correct. Today, it would be different we'd be the one pushing then back for once.  
Whilst the calm that seemed to pass between us and them, i ounce my way up the canvas that was the A9's side and climbed into the hatchway. They were drawing nearer to us, to us and the plethora of other lads protecting this rock in the sand. Our only chance of holding the line of El Alamein, the path stopping German and Italian forces alike from reaching the heart of Egypt. Those bloody people better be thanking us. If not for us being here, Genocide of a large scale probably would have been at hand. Or they'd have all their oil stripped from them like a blimey crock tearing an innocent Gazelle to pieces.  
By the time i stood at watch, half up in the humid breeze filled with smog, i saw the shimmers and glim of the approaching machines, counting them before they reared their ugly heads from within the dust.  
It was now a matter of time.

"Cassius, everything up and running down there!?" I shouted, trying to overpass the sudden sound of the engines coming to life. "Yes sir, everyone's ready!" He yelped back, the echo's barely ringing to me."Alright then. Lets show these Jerrie's what were capable of." Shoving my way into the dingy space that was our home, i closed the lid and locked it tight. Out of the fire and straight into the frying pan, left to simmer and melt away, slowly and with keen torture.  
"Keep her steady. Let them come closer. Fernando, distance?" I quickly wiped sweat, sweat already pouring over my face from just being inside for mere seconds. If i learned anything, Tanks do not make good shade. With tattered voice Fernando replied, "Hundred; maybe hundred and twenty yards at the most." I could barely make out his voice over the humming of the engines and the constant chatter from the radio.  
"Dang it private, turn that damned thing down! For goodness sakes, can't even hear me'self think!" Nefarious quickly obliged and turned the nob till it became nothing more than a faint whisper. Chances are I'd regret that later, but it would become nothing more than an annoyance than a helping hand in the long run. Besides, if the retreat was to be ordered, it would be bloody obvious, seeing as if the other boys would be hightailing it out of here. At least not to forget, it's better not to think of such thoughts at a time like this. Battle never does give you that sparing second to piddle with what could happen.

If to ring the door bell, a crackle and boom of cannon fodder and shots began to pour across from the Germans line as they continued a straight forward march eastward, keeping a minimum distant from us, but such to keep in a modern range. We were sitting ducks, they were the hunters stalking us.  
"Turn twenty degrees! Aim for where they will go, not at them! Ready, target, fire!"  
With nonreligious prayers sent, the shackle and bump of the _thwomp_ feeling we learned to grow and respect pushed out. We watched, at least those that could see, a sudden white trail hit and demolish in a a puff of dark sand, a shell launched by us, to them. But it became a quick apparel that we missed. By a small margin to boot. If their was anything that could piss me off more, it would be missing by mere inches. Inches that could mean life or death.  
"Load another shell, quickly!" We were the first to fire on our side, but not for long. In a hail storm of bombardments from artillery placed behind us and secondary reply from the rest of the A9's, more gusts of decree and dust blossomed and boomed all around the narrow run of the enemy forces.  
A few wreckages appearing in clear sight showing monstrous beasts taken down in blows. That was something that did the opposite of making me testy.  
Nice homely piles of wrecked German armor. Just how i like it.

* * *

It didn't take long for the real fight to begin. Echo's of far away bouts sinking its way miles in every direction. I could see why they'd think we were so vulnerable. Just a rag tag team of Desert Rats out away from the main battalion, sitting between them and the port city Cairo. Too bad i just wasn't in a giving mood today.

Belches of smoke; rising from dispersed vehicles continued to feed the flames that just added to the hell we were in. It stuck with me. The ringing sound, pitched and high up, taunting me with every burst of the cannon. Atkins, get a hold of yourself. Can't let the team down. Not now. Just got to keep fighting. Show those jerks on the other end who you are.  
More spatters of clothed dirt sprinkled and painted our little heat conductor as a narrowly missing shell hit the ground hard in front of us. Probably gave shivers to everyone here. But not me. I'm the man who's in charge. No time for fear. No time to show weakness.  
"Forty up, aim for the under belly- fire!" I yelled another screech and churn of metal pulsed the tank slightly backwards, creating another blurry trail of mis created death. It smashed hard into it's target, causing eruption of a mass scale within. Poor Jerrie's never saw it coming.

The intense clash began to dwindle everyone's numbers. But it was far from over. With every tank or man fallen in battle, another quickly stepped up and took his place. The Jerrie's cautious and all, continued to push hard along our deployment line, As well as to mask the dawning of light, they continued to slowly crank up there movement to create twirls of sand to rise and spread in the air. There own second layer of armor, per say? Guess Rommel's been teaching his men well. That or all Germans are born to drive tanks.  
What didn't seem to fit in the picture was the ever persistent Italians. Their own numbers meshing in with the Nazi regime, not worth much due to there outdated technology on the field and the little numbers they had. Course, if not for Mussolini and his vow to bring back this long to pass Roman Empire, they wouldn't have been here, causing havoc, riding in with the high noon. Never would have brought the Germans with him too. Or so i would guess.  
A second shell whizzed by us and smash into the underbrush of a nearby rock. No Atkins, this is not the time to dwell on political fanfare.

Something caught my eye at that moment. Something that just didn't seem right. They finally stopped.  
"Well about time! Now we can send them to an early grave with generous ease, aye team?"I croaked, smiling all the while, cheering what could be a well too soon cheer. Yes, well too soon. A sudden shift in the balance became clear, through the settling of the storm clouds, it became apparent what they were doing from the start. Masking the readiness of those unholy Anti Tank guns.  
"For the love of- Nefarious change in plans aim at those eighty-eight's before they punch a hole in us bigger than Fernando's head!" Fernando took lightly at the comment, probably swayed by the constant fear of war. That or he was just too afraid of me. Everyone on my team was. At least a respectable fear that one can only receive from uncanny discipline and self-respect. Something i believe is trait of blood.

Nefarious quickly got to work, back paddling to the nearest Eighty-eight and lining what he thinks is a direct hit. But if it be luck or just planned out, those turrets were partially hiding behind both Panzer and dune's alike. From this distant we had little chance of hitting them, they had the barrel against our skulls.  
I turned the radio up a tad to get a gesture of what was going on amongst the others. As usual, noises I've grown sadly attached too, were the deafening screams and terrible pleas of help across multiple channels all lining from hundreds of tanks. Talk about one grotesque noise.  
Another rock of the machine another piece of ammunition gone in a explosion of pure fire and shrapnel.

"Damn it, can't we hit anything but desert!? Lets put the pain into them!" I yelled, seeing as we just hit the cover the Eighty-eight had.  
It didn't take long for them to reply to our bet with their own fold of cards. The Eighty-eight's. In a bombardment, they catheterized our entire area, plugging anything that could shoot back and then some. All i could hear was the sudden rush of smoke and explosions. Odd for the such tiny space i had available to peer out of; i could suddenly see the sun drifting outwards for miles on miles. Just like when the Jerrie's first arrived an hour earlier. When i was just resting on the hot surface of our tank.

From what i faintly saw, my eyes wandering across a sparse wasteland, our own men, sprawled and burned alive in heaps, mounds and mounds of heaps, the metal protecting them blown open and turned into mince meat. Some privates still alive, crawling for shelter, hoping to make it, but were thoughts soon shattered by the roar of a unleashed machine gun. Mercy? Not in war. You show mercy you'll be the one pleading for it not long after.  
I could smell it, eye's beginning to blur, the smell of burnt flesh and oil. Atkins you moron, what is wrong with you! Get back in the game. Your team needs you!  
I just couldn't move. All i could ask was one thing.

Did we get hit?

No. No feeling whatsoever. Dead, demolished, doomed so to say. The daggering taste of sand filling my lungs and mouth. So dry. So tired... could just go to sleep right here. My eyes roll sideways, looking skywards, stopping midpoint. A corpse. Tangled across me. Charred as if grilled and smoldering with fumes and smoke. I could recognize the remains of a face. Nefarious. My worse fears. His eyes wide with terror: years of tales and drunken bar fights seeping out as if remembering and seeing them once again. Not my memories no, but to me, a man with no such thing as a past, had to live through some memories. Even if it was just that... borrowed memories.  
Tears began to build up in my eyes. Never did i think it would come to this. Legends die hard as they say. Man, i didn't even get to gloat about this to my future grandsons.

No! Snap out of it. You're still alive you old coot. Get up! Get up!  
But... it felt so good to just be numb. Never have i realized how much of a burden I've been carrying all these months. Better to just keep forgetting those memories. That i wish i could do... but they began to creep up on me... slowly, irking and tugging at my mind.

"_Welcome to the Cauldron men. The crappiest place you'll ever see." _

Forget them Atkins... they'll just hurt you even more...

"_I just can't wait to return home captain. To see the faces of my children; to hold my wife once more. Atkins, I mean sir, do you have kids of your own?"_

Drown them out, old man... just go to sleep... you deserve some rest...

"_We all had dreams. But i quickly abandoned mine when the world kicked me in the ass. I figured thats why all of us are here. Because we've lost that dream. To fight for a land that couldn't give a shit if we're here or not. Eh, it's got a poetic justice if you ask me. Men die for a country not worth dying for. Well look at that, might have just found my calling after all. I can see it now... lil' ol' farmer boy from Scotland tells truth about world. Maybe they'll turn my life into some black and white movie. Who knows." _

I slowly could feel the tingle in my body. The one i heard about from those that experienced near death situations. No noise, no feeling, just a plain vortex of stale, invisible numbness that began to rob me of my senses. Slipping away to that very same spot i hoped never to see here. The graveyard of my mind.  
The shell shock aftermath.

"_If you died sir, do you think you'll go to heaven?" _

"_Heaven? Boy, with the things I've seen, done and practically blown to pieces, I'd think it'll be in God's best intentions to send this man far away from it as possible."_

"_So- hell sir?" _

"_How much of a hell can hell itself be? It'll just be like living. No 'hell' can be as gruesome as the one I've walked for decades. None."_

* * *

_That's it for now. If i don't get flamed to death, then i shall continue among the week or a few days. Reviews, wether they be with my critical intrest on how to improve my story or just plain good things said, are highly welcome. Like i always say, can't change what you don't know. _


	2. The Cauldron

The Cauldron

"Welcome to the Cauldron boys. The crappiest place you'll ever see," spoke first sergeant Feral Chaplin, his hands clapped onto a pair of binoculars, peering, with weary eyes, across a vast plain of wreckage and death. I stood, torso high, in the same screeching rust bucket I've been in for months_: The Kill Switch. _Of course, shes seen a great deal of action; been shot at a few times, dinged here and there, but she held steady and was greatly regarded as the best in the division. _And i wonder who got her that title? Thats right, me._

Chaplin lowered the binoculars then turned to face me, "Atkins, take her slow. Don't want to be so easily ambushed out there. Perhaps, if you don't mind, keep out of the messy paths. Were already behind schedule as it is; we don't need a tank stuck out in the open."

Feral was a very honorable man. Nice, clean on words and, as far as i noted, well per-served. But we weren't on friendly terms. If you'd ask him about it, he'd tell you the same thing._Can't say i blame the guy; i wouldn't be buddies with me neither._ It all started back at the academy. We were at that point bunkmates, a couple, people would call them as a joke referring to the lack of female companionship. Of course we talked, Feral always bragging about his family, his fience, the little ranch in up hill London he lived, worked and breathed on. I wasn't one for stories, could give little sympathy to his whining; the over whelming plead to see home. Shouldn't had signed up. Shouldn't have left a could-be wife to pray and cry the nights away about his stupid ass. _Shouldn't have been a fool._

After a month, I gave in, cussed him out and verbally abused his belly aching ways. Now, after two years later, he gets the top promotion of the division while I'm left commanding few. Though he's grown some backbone since I put him straight, I still think he's no leader, not fit for the title of an higher ranking officer. He's to polite, to merciful; makes him weak in my eyes.

With a knock on the side of _Kill Switch_, Feral dropped into his seat, which turns out to be a commanders jeep; looked at the driver and tapped his shoulder. In turn he replied with a roar of the engine, which eventually led them backwards as he spun the vehicle around and followed the long tank pillar to the end. I strained myself down the hatch, looked Cassius in the eyes and told him, via nod, that we were ready. The engines came to live and in a few short seconds later, we were off.

* * *

"Now i see why they call this place the Cauldron," spoke Fernando peering out the hatch. To what he saw was no more than a stretch of sand covered with piles of wrecked tanks and abandoned dead men both British and German. Oil, wasted oil, was scattered in floods across this ruin, painting the sand a dark black, adding on to the chaos. Some of it was lit, fuming the air with a stench of dread that maybe the next guy too get hit could be you; It also made this desert even more scorched than it should be. This one spot, going in a radius two miles in design, had become the breeding ground for countless duels. A stalemate looming, people just moments from being added to the deceased list. _The Grim Reaper has been mighty busy. _

I turned, wiping sweat from brow, frowning at such a stupid statement. "You know, snipers just love it when you stick your head out the hatch. Yeah Fernando, why don't you just do that." I said sarcastically, as usual in a commanding voice. Fernando was quick to get back into the tank, sealing the exit over him. _Fool, i was just joking. If there is a sniper out there, he'd be dead from the heat; birds picking away at the corpse._

It didn't seem possible, even to me, that there was wild life around here. Plenty of buzzards, vultures they call them, squalling over one another for the plethora of meat from the brave misled men scattered across this wasteland. It was turning into an all you can eat buffee. Speaking of food, i was feeling quite hungry. Another bumpanother pile of wreckage scattered and smashed under the frame of our tank. The ride was becoming rather rigid.

"Gosh darn it, I'm so bored!" Whined Nefarious, ending his day long silence. I was feeling that way as well. Most men here dreaded combat, the fear of dying grabbing plenty by the throats. But other than that, we had little to do but count the seconds, the hours, the days- sharing the same idiotic stories of women, favorite beers and fights. At least the rest of them did. I had nothing to share- and of course planning to keeping it that way. _It's none of their business to where my origins started nor where i think they will end. No ones_. Actually Combat was looking to be more welcomed than anything.

"Well why don't you enlighten us with another one of your pompous stories." Replied Cassius, steering over another heap of tank, practically ignoring what Feral had stated a mere hour ago. "Shut the bloody hell up Cassius, you have little room to talk," he returned, true British accent sticking to his words with gestures of anger; kicking the others seat. I put a hand in between the two men, face strained with stress, veins showing my aggression, heat bearing too and fro. "Listen ladies, you're not making this ride any easier by pissing me off, keep your hands and feet to yourselves and lets make this as civil as possible. Got that? Or should i redirect your face in the sand with the rest of the blokes out there!"

The tank insides became eerily quiet, spite the echo of my words ringing a second time. _Better chances of them getting it. _"Yes-yes, sir," the two finally muttered, Fernando barely letting slip a giggle. "That goes for you too."

For awhile it stayed silent. The churning gears of iron death traps pulverizing through debris making the only sound visible. Truth be told, i actually preferred them arguing than sitting in the quiet. Memories seem to catch up to you when your not shouting or blowing someones head off. Silence was my enemy; an enemy far worse than a Jerrie's Spitfire.  
When the Germans finally made head way; showing grizzled metal across the dunes and bodies, i only smiled. It was bloody time. _God bless 'em._

* * *

_Boom_, the sudden explosion of cannon fodder and machine guns lit the rise of night, little bit of daylight painting the earth and artificial creations with a dazzle of sheer glitter. Another enemy lit up like a Christmas tree; another threat i didn't have to worry about no more. The smell of blood and oil a welcome addition to the odors seeping in; but the stained stench of sweat and bodily juices from the stinky men within this God forsaken contraption, still out weighed anything else.

"Turn one-eighty, line up on that Panzer. Make scrap heap out of it now!" I yelled, slapping Nefarious on the back, him in turn making haste to spin around the scope, aiming the barrel of our tank dead on the enemy not far from our position. The turret released a shell. The shell speeding off to meet it's victim; Fire engulfing the remains. _That makes four. Seems i wasn't the only one yearning for some action, _I smiled.

Foot soldiers, trenched in ditches dug by their own hands, peaked out every once an awhile, fired a shot then dropped back down. They did little to evoke any damage; bullets ricocheting off the hulls of our tanks. A few bodies flew out from a loose shot. They never saw it coming.

I peered over the crew, watching them at work. A single entity, a whole squad becoming one. They worked well together, that i had to admit. It would make me sad to see a single one of them die_. No, i wouldn't let that happen._ A second wave of a German division poured across the overhanging hills, barrels and crew itching to pummel something to the ground. Few coming across fell to the weight of crunched metal, exploding and adding to the carnage.

"Look at 'em die," Began Fernando, "Makes me glad to be on our side." Pity, a self relenting feeling; never met well with me. Whether that had been an act of pity, i could only guess, but i didn't like his tone. _No, better to keep it yourself Atkins. Yell later: fight now._ Another victim, another puff of smoke rising. From the air I bet it looked like a small neighborhood, chimneys pushing tons of smog into the sky.

The radio, or I'd like to call, the distraction box, came to life in a flood of made way gibberish and commands. I could tell who was giving orders, that voice i knew anywhere, that panzee Feral. "There on the run, make headway, cut them off and take them down! We deal with them now before they get too far out so we can't see them." This is what I thought I heard, but it wasn't to clear. Still surprised the radio even works, parts of it laid melted, banged and dinged due to Neferious having a field day trying to get it fixed a few days ago.  
I picked up the receiver, raising it up to ear to call in. _If I'm going to lead the boys on a fools errand across unknown territory, I'd better be damn sure the commanders positive about it. Not really in the mood to see hell yet. _I yelled, placing hand on the armored wall beside me to keep balance, "This is Kill Switch, pack leader, come in Fox Hound are you sure about, quote: making chase?"

It stirred in sound, static the only thing heard for a viable few seconds, "Yes, proceed over that dune, give chase, take out as many as you can before they can pull back and regroup with another subdivision._" That's what I thought he said. Well, look on the bright side, salvation is just on the other side of that hill of sand. _

Eventually, through continuous blood shed, numbers from both sides, British and German, began to dwindle. Luckily we were winning; if not for our numbers. They began to retreat. Men rising from their holes were mowed down by machine guns, tanks driving backwards, firing off a final shell before dissappearing in the near blackness of night. It was becoming harder to hit something; at least anything that needed to be smite._ Sand doesn't equal enemy. Well... maybe that's a lie._  
It then became quiet, only the huff and puff of tired men and spinning gears. We had won.

As we came over the dune in which the enemy ambushed us at, I saw, from where I stood outside of our hatch, a small village the Krauts had called camp. Just a small, defenseless village abandoned by it's once owned rulers. "Finally, after so many months, we've made it past the Cauldron." As i made room for the others, one by one my men, my brothers in arms, jumped out of the tank and onto the cold night ground. The fire lighting that holiest of sites made my heart skip a beat.

"You think they have showers? I could really go for one," Asked Fernando, taking a seat on the cushioned ground. I stared down at him, hiding a smile, a joke at his expense lingering on tongue. But I held it- if not to give him this break; at least one time. "Yeah... I think we all could use one." They laughed, I turned and grinned, everyone watching the Germans pull back as far as they could with what little light they had. Later that night we had a great feast and tons of food.

_I don't know why that night stuck with me. Us laughing; as to why we were doing just that. For as far as i know, there wasn't too much to celebrate about. Maybe- maybe just for that one moment, that one night, we didn't have to worry who could out gun the other. We just had peace. No, not I. It became hell once again; the quiet always does...The questions people ask. _


End file.
